


A Pretty Girl is a Melody

by Vera



Category: NSYNC
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-03
Updated: 2004-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris liked to get into the spirit of things at MuchMusic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pretty Girl is a Melody

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to jcalanthe, i-naiad and bossymarmalade for advice, patience and moral support, to erilyn for gleeful footage and to marythefan for motivation. Hmm. the credits _are_ longer than the story.

Rick realised, while holding his skirt up and trying to get both his thong and pantyhose down, that he should have pissed before wardrobe got hold of him. Fucking Chris Kirkpatrick. Ah, that was it. At last.

He heard the door open and close behind him; a moment later two hands grabbed his ass.

"Hey, baby."

"Fuck!" Rick jumped, narrowly avoiding pissing on his shoes. "Don't do that, Chris. Fuck fuck fuck. Have you ever tried to piss in a skirt?"

"Yep. Dude, you are one ugly chick." Chris flicked a finger at his bright red wig. "Ugly," Chris said again, dragging the word out.

"You got no room to talk, I've seen all your videos." Rick shook, holding his skirt bunched in one hand and his dick in the other. He couldn't work out how pull up his underwear without having an accident. "Hold my skirt."

Chris's fingers brushed skin as he gathered the skirt in both hands, one thumb stroking the line of dark hair that trailed down Rick's belly. This close, Rick could smell Chris's leather and denim. He pulled up his thong and the pantyhose, adjusted his dick, settled his skirt and elbowed Chris aside, going to wash his hands at the shallow sink. He could see Chris in the mirror, leaning against the wall next to the urinal, hands in his jacket pockets, obviously checking out his ass.

"Looking good from this angle."

"Hi Chris, nice to see you, too, but as you can tell, I'm a bit busy right now. Some idiot," he raised his eyebrows at Chris in the mirror, "dared me to dress up like a woman and try to get a guy to have coffee with me." He dried his hands and stepped out of his shoes. They weren't comfortable at all, no wonder drag queens sang tortured love songs. He tweaked at his skirt and wiggled his stuffed bra. The fake pearls made him think of anal beads, but there was no helping that. He leaned toward the mirror, was his eye makeup crooked? "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I got time, I thought I'd visit my guy, and by the way, nice legs but I think you know that." Chris was behind him now and slipping a hand up under his skirt. "Where is my guy?"

"Chris, I gotta go on camera in a minute. Someone's gonna come looking for me."

"Fritz is outside. We're all alone." Chris rubbed his hip, catching his nails on the pantyhose and sending shivers across Rick's thighs. "All alone." Chris pulled back Rick's hair - his wig - and licked his neck.

"Fritz is going to look a bit obvious, isn't he?" Chris had some crazy timing.

"Trust the professional, we're okay. Everyone will think I'm in here giving you a hard time." Chris rubbed softly at the curve of Rick's hip. With his other hand he touched Rick's neck, stroking the tips of his fingers across the spot he'd licked, the two points like ends of a battery, current sparking through Rick.

"Keep that up and I will have a hard time."

Chris chuckled and ran his hand from Rick's neck across his shoulders and around to cup his hand over Rick's fake breast. "Mmmmm, nice boobies."

Chris pressed warm against his back, wrapped around him.

"Dickhead, let me stand up." He plucked at Chris's hand on his shirt. "Don't mess them up. Don't make me crooked, man."

Chris rubbed his crotch against Rick's ass, moved his hand so he was gripping Rick's other hip, too. "C'mon, baby, be nice." He grinned at Rick in the mirror. Rick could feel Chris's first hand inch around his hip, stroking low. The tense stretch of pantyhose pulled across his crotch, like a hand job by proxy. Chris tugged on the pantyhose, increasing the pressure. "I can show you a good time."

"That I know. Come on, Chris, I have to go." He put his hand over Chris's, under his skirt, but didn't push it away. His hand covered Chris's completely. He slid both hands, fingers linked, down over his dick. In the mirror, they looked almost demure, the bulge of their hands under Rick's skirt only hinted at below the sink's edge. He met Chris's eyes in the mirror, their dark glee stirring him. "I have got to go."

"I want to fuck you right here, in this getup. Hot boy. Wanna push up your skirt," Chris twisted his hips, rubbing against Rick. "Pull down these damn things," he plucked at the pantyhose, "and fuck you." He pressed his cheek against Rick's shoulder. For a moment nothing was said. Chris held him.

Chris reached into his back pocket and pulled something out. When he pushed it down into Rick's fake cleavage, Rick realised it was a keycard.

"Room ten oh two." Chris kissed his cheek sweetly and let him go, smoothing down his skirt, getting in a gentle grope of Rick's half hardon. He stopped at the door, smirking, and said, "Didn't I tell you you'd meet a nice guy?" Then he was gone.

Rick checked the keycard was secure inside his bra, shoved his feet into his high heels, and took a last look at himself in the mirror, his cheeks flushed under the rouge. He imagined he looked prettier than when he'd first come in.


End file.
